


The Chain

by havisham



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, Red Hood and the Outlaws
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canonical Character Death, Christmas, Commentary, Daddy Issues, Dark, Ghosts, Identity Porn, M/M, One of My Favorites, Pseudo-Incest, Resurrection, The Case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-28 00:43:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Christmas Eve, and Bruce Wayne gets a visit from ghost. Except Jason Todd is totally alive and definitely kicking.</p><p>(Fuck you for thinking otherwise.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chain

**Author's Note:**

> I was reading _Batman: Noel_ and the bit jumped out at me was when Bats has a harrowing few hours with his own Jacob Marley, the dead Robin extraordinaire, Jason Todd! Except Jason Todd _isn’t_ dead, not at all. He’s gloriously, profanely alive! So I guess this just me working through that.
> 
> Borrows some (one) element of _Red Hood and the Outlaws_. No spoilers. Except for Jason's feels. (He has a lot of them.) And also his wardrobe choices. (Which are always flawless.)
> 
> DVD commentary for this fic can be found [here](http://moetushie.livejournal.com/536588.html).

He might wear a bat on his chest nowadays, but that doesn't mean that Bruce _\-- Batman --_ can tell him what to do.

(Actually, it _does_ mean Batman can tell him what to do; Jason’s got a bat on his chest.)

If nothing else, Jason can appreciate the symbolism. After all, he's spent most of his life being a symbol. A cautionary tale, a warning to all future Bats and birds; don't be like Jason Todd, don't disobey the Batman and die. (As if disobedience should be paid with a horrible, protracted death. _These fucking people_ , how can they accept it?)

He's an uncomfortable reminder of what happens when heroes fail _\-- they die --_ and no one wants to be reminded that they can die, that they can fail. So it's much better to blame the dead guy. There must have been something _wrong_ with him.

And, hey, Jason _gets_ it. He does.

(There _is_ something wrong with him. He didn't come back whole. Hell, he probably didn't leave whole either.)

He's not stupid, no matter what others, like Drake, think. He gets it. But that doesn’t mean he has to like it. Being a symbol, wearing a symbol that belongs to someone else, he can't think which of those things he hates the most.

The thing is, Jason would rather be a living asshole than a dead saint. (Or a dead asshole, which probably how he's remembered. Yeah, Jason knows the score.)

Anyway, Jason’s been Bruce’s personal cross to bear for many years now -- _Beware of winsome street urchins, oh unwary billionaires! They are a lifetime commitment! -_ \- but it’s been a even longer time since Bruce has actually tried hauling him to place to place.

Sure, it was probably a bad idea to come to the manor on Christmas Eve (of all days), and it’s not like there’s anything there for him. But the place is completely devoid of holiday cheer and any of Bruce’s numerous (and annoying) family members. It’s like everyone decided this was the year to spend Christmas away.

Even Alfred’s made himself scarce.

But then there’s Bruce, of course. There's always Bruce.   
+ 

Honestly, being slammed against the wall so early in the evening is just a little abrupt. Jason coughs and then winches. That’s going to ache in the morning.

He spits out,“What’s the deal, old man? Have you finally cracked?” He can’t remember -- does he have any really _pressing_ arrest warrants out on him? Bruce makes a noise low in his throat, almost slipping into his Batman growl. “Don’t needle me, Jason.”

Forget the pain, Jason's got a bright, brilliant grin plastered on his face. He loves that fucking Batman voice.

It's so ridiculous.

It's so _hot._

Also, he can't help it. Needling Bruce is one of his favorite activities, the pleasure he gets from doing it is something that’s survived dying and coming back. Actually, it’s not something Jason likes to examine too closely. Annoying Bruce is close to making Bruce hurt (which is another favorite activity, let's be truthful now), and that’s too close to wanting to make Bruce care.

And fuck if he going back to that dark place of whining about how _daddy doesn’t love him anymore._

( Did he ever? You gotta wonder.)

"Fucking finally," is the last thought Jason has as Bruce kisses him, and it’s less of a kiss and more a blow and Jason would be a liar if he couldn’t admit that these team-ups that Bruce and he have begun to indulge in have an equal chance of ending with a fight or a fuck. He’s spoiling both, but the latter is the more pleasant alternative...

Bruce is patient -- his breathing is steady, his heartrate’s elevated, but well within the normal range. If Jason wasn’t between him and a hard place, well. Jason’s not so well controlled, he’s yanking at his collar and then pulling at his pants, everything’s got to go.

And Bruce leans in and fuck, _he’s a beast_ , and says, “Easy, Jay.”

Jason whimpers. Yeah. _He does._

Bruce is just about the worse person he could do this with. There is literally no one else on this Earth Jason Todd should avoid sleeping with more than Bruce Wayne.

(Except maybe Slade Wilson, but that’s more of a _Nightwing_ thing.)

  
Fucking Bruce is such a colossal mistake that of course that’s the one thing Jason has to do. Multiple times, as loudly as possible.

  
Bruce probably sees it as a form of penance.

  
 _Bruce is supremely fucked up._

(These are things everyone knows, and the sky is blue, bears shit in the woods, you’re preaching to the choir, glory and hallelujah etc, etc.)

+

Sex with Bruce is like being swiftly disassembled and then laboriously put together again, with only a few pieces missing.

(Look. There are other dumb analogies that could go here.)

Sex with Jason is loud and rough.

(Just the facts, ma’am.)

+

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.” Jason pants into Bruce’s chest. He knows when he’s been beat, and he has -- he has been completely -- wow. The stories don’t even come close. Bruce really is that good. The fucker, the smugness is just rolling off him. But Jason? He does not give a shit. Not even one. Bruce can have his satisfaction. As long as... As soon as Jason could...

God, he’s _thisclose_ to coming, but not... He couldn’t...

And then he says it, like Jason knew he would, he’s been waiting.

“ _Robin_ ,” says Batman.

He makes a choked off noise, and comes. His body’s wracked, his face flushed. So low that even the sharpest-earred bat would be hard pressed to hear him, His voice hoarse and wavering, Robin whispers, “R-r-right behind you, Batman.”

(Poor baby bird, don’t you know that your first love never leaves you? It’s the same for us all.)

  
+

  
Then he pushes himself away, nails scratching into Bruce’s shoulder. He dresses carelessly, heedless of any scrutiny. His white t-shirt’s wrinkled and stained, but he shrugs it on. His jeans skim over his thighs, the zipper makes a small sticking noise that’s loud in the quiet of the cave.

Jason taps on the Case as he passes by, making sure to leave smudges on the glass. Alfred will have to Windex it in the morning.

  
As he leaves, there’s a faint rattle of a chain. A ghost is passing.

  
Bruce get up. The bruises are starting to purple.

It's time for patrol. There’s much to do.

  
( After all, Christmas is just another day.) 


End file.
